Fallen For
by Literary Litany
Summary: Sarah is mortally wounded, and Jareth comes to give her an offer, with a price as yet undetermined...  S/J and alot of folklore and mythology references
1. Chapter 1: A King's Ransom

**Fallen For**

_By LiteraryLitany_

Chapter 1: A King's Ransom

* * *

Pain swirled in confusing patterns of reds and browns and grays, blurring her vision until she didn't think there was anything there but the lapping waves of agony that her body kept throwing at her. Her head felt empty and bruised, her face and shoulder burned as if they were on fire, and her legs…

They'd been pulsing before, with an icy fire, but that was gone now, along with any other sensations from the lower half of her body.

There was a strangled gurgling sound, too loud to be coming from the forest around her. It took her a long minute to realize she was trying to scream, but just kept breathing in blood instead.

What had her mother said? Go in kicking and screaming, go out the same way. Well, she couldn't kick and she couldn't scream. She'd have to settle for quietly choking on her own blood.

There was a low growl near her ear that sent sparks along her nerves, even those in her legs. "No you don't. I have waited too long. You are going **live**, you hear me?"

The voice was harsh with anger and fear, but somehow was still smooth and musical. She liked that voice. If she could pick any voice to die listening to, it'd be this one.

"Sit up, Sarah." She didn't like that idea. Moving would hurt. Choking wasn't so bad really. The pain would go away, and…

"Damn you girl, **move**!" Despite herself she was afraid of the desperation in the beautiful voice. She'd disappointed everyone in her life, her parents, her teachers, her brother. She didn't want to disappoint this beautiful voice. Not when she was about to die.

So she moved. Shifted her weight to the shoulder that wasn't burning and eased onto her side.

Her vision swam and for a moment her blinking eyes cleared enough to see the stones she'd fallen on, soaked in her blood, and her legs spread out between them. The shape was wrong though.

Cold whispered down her spine, the first bit of panic she'd felt since she'd hit the ground. Coughing up the blood she felt a desperate surge of fear that somehow propelled her to sit up. She screamed, a proper scream this time, as she felt her legs and the agony burned white-hot through her brain.

"Sarah…" The voice had lost most of its anger now, leaving only fear and something desperate and beautiful that she wished there was a word for. "Sarah, you have to listen to me. I'm going to tell you to say something, and you have to say it. Word for word. Don't argue now. Please, for pity's sake, don't argue. Just do it."

She whimpered, pain and wrongness in her neck making that task sound more daunting still as her legs faded back into numbness. Her foggy mind was trying to tell her something about the voice. Something important. But the empty feeling in her skull kept whatever it was from making sense.

"Repeat after me." The voice said gently, apparently in control of his fear now. She liked the gentleness. It felt like the words were a caress. The only kind of touch that wouldn't cause her more pain. "I wish…"

She coughed and something made a noise in her neck that sounded very ominous. "I wish…" She croaked, the words garbled and rough, too stark a contrast to the beautiful voice.

"Good." He sounded relieved, and the softness of the encouragement caressed her deeper. "Now say 'That the Goblin King'."

"That the Goblin…" Her head was moving without her thinking about it. Muscles in her throat twitched but she fought through it. "K-King…"

Her mind was getting louder. Screaming at her. But she couldn't understand what it was saying…

"Would come and claim this body…" The voice was almost a whisper now.

"Would come…" She whimpered, her head falling back with a crack. Her head was bright with new pain and new numbness, but it was suddenly clear. "Claim this body right now…" It was nothing more than a garbled cry, and she fell back, expecting the sting of the rocks but instead felt the softness of an arm, and lips on hers, drinking in her blood still pooling from her bitten tongue, and the pain was running away…

* * *

When Sarah Williams awoke, her first thought was of how wonderful she felt. Her body was limp, and weak, but it sang.

Which, when some foggy memories filtered back to her, made no sense. A fall… The pain! And then, she'd been so delirious, she'd heard a voice…

Her eyes flitted across the bed she lay in. It was a big bed, bigger than a king sized, and round, the pale silver of the silken sheets making it look a moon, lit by only a faint flicker of firelight slipping through the drapery around its circumference. She shifted, blushing at how nice the silk felt against her soft, bare skin.

Bare skin?

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, and glancing about wildly, trying to make sense of the situation, but all she could see was the bed and fabric. She tried her other senses, diving to bury her nose in the pillows. A faint whiff of her sweat, but barely there. Mostly it smelled of the lingering scent of a man, somewhere between leather and feathers, but it wasn't a fresh smell. There was dust on the carvings in the posts.

She heard a door open rather forcefully and stilled in fear. Two sets of footsteps, one angry and one light followed the sound and came to a halt not far away.

"Sire, it took weeks to clean up after her the last time." This voice was reasonable if exasperated, so she assigned it to the lighter foot-falls.

"She will not be permitted to wander so freely this time." The voice was chilly and anxious, and with a shock of absolute horror, Sarah recognized it. The beautiful voice that spoke to her at the bottom of the cliff. The voice that called to her from her childhood.

The Goblin King.

She muffled the gasp that nearly caught her breath and hurried to straighten herself out in the bed to pretend sleep so she could listen better.

"You seemed confident she was containable last time as well, sire." The voice was perfectly respectful, but Sarah thought she caught a teasing amusement in it. She wondered who dared to taunt Jareth like that. Her concern as to the state of his Court hadn't been high on her priority list last visit. Did he even have one?

Jareth sounded grumpy, and despite all the fear and uncertainty, that was sparked her amusement. "I am not going to underestimate her this time. And I like to think we've both learned a few things." Had she? Her time leading up to the fall was blurry at best. The last clear memory she had was taking off for college…

Her father and step-mother had been thrilled to get her out of the house now that Toby didn't need a babysitter anymore. He was the only one in that house she had missed. Him and the friends in her bedroom mirror, that had slowly ceased their visits as she grew older and more focused on her impending future out in the cold, cruel world. Fantasy didn't let her escape from the pressure, the stress, the worry that she'd curse herself to obscurity.

So her only option had been to salvage as much scholarship money as she could from her glowing high school director's recommendation and save up the rest herself. Her father would have nothing to do with her dreams of theater school, after all. That was up to her.

Had she achieved that? There were flashes, of theatre classes and plays… something that might have been a student film… But it was all jumbled. Incomprehensible. Like seeing flashes of a movie in another language but you know it's not in the right order.

What was in the right language though, was Jareth dismissing whoever it was he'd been talking to. She hurried to close her eyes and even out her breathing, in time with his soft footfalls approaching the bed. She'd had some substantial practice at faking sleep for some reason. It was easier than it should have been. Jareth drew the curtain aside, and it was pure torture not to open her eyes. To see what he looked like. If he was how she remembered in the same way his voice was. 80s glitter and all.

His fingers, still gloved, she could feel that at least, ran over her bare shoulder and down her arm, sending shivers through her. Odd shivers. Unreasonably pleasant. "You may open your eyes, precious. I know you're awake." That all too familiar smirk dripped from his voice.

She did, curiosity overcoming her chagrin at his amusement, and turned to him, clutching the sheet close to preserve whatever modesty she had left. That thought sent another shiver of worry through her but she resolved to worry about that when she was finished staring at the Goblin King before her. It wasn't like last time she'd seen him. Something had changed. A veil had been pulled aside. There was no more cute and glitter, no more eye-shadow and show-offy leggings. Last time she'd seen him it'd been seduction with a laugh, danger with a wink. Now she was looking at a King of the Night in his unaltered glory.

* * *

Author's Note: And that's chapter one! It's been sitting on my shelf for forever because I couldn't make some decisions about the later plot, and I've discovered if I don't clear those up at the beginning, nothing gets done. *coughARegularRomeocough* So, I actually know where this is going. All of where it's going. And no, things are not quite as they seems. And yes, you aren't supposed to know how Sarah fell in the first scene. Not yet, anyway. That said, I am taking suggestions for subplots from readers. If there's a character from Labyrinth or Folkore you'd like to see pop up, or if you think there's some trouble for Sarah or Jareth to get to alone, lemme know what you'd like to see, and if it can fit in I'll make an effort to include it. Thank you so much for reading! And writers run on reviews. It's our version of biodiesel, greatly preferable to the sugar and caffeine that will drive us to an early grave.


	2. Chapter 2: Breathe Life into a Stone

**The Fall**

_By LiteraryLitany_

Chapter 2: Breathe Life into a Stone

* * *

His hair was still a silver-gold and wispy, but it's chaos sat tamed by a circlet of what looked like pure black crystal. His eyebrows still slid up toward it in the elfin shape, but no make-up adorned him. There was no need. His skin was flawless as moonlight. It didn't need to glitter because the pure milky tone of it shone. And his eyes… She knew now why he'd hid himself last time. And she had no doubt that this was his true self. If she'd seen those eyes as a naïve young fifteen-year-old, she would have run screaming at the first sight. Even now she tensed, as her senses screamed _danger_ and her heart skipped a beat.

One eye was the swirling, yes, moving, color of dark forests in summer that swallowed the unwary wanderer. The other was a glacial blue, of the ice children think can take their weight but just deliver them to a watery grave. Or perhaps the grave at the end of a cliff.

She recoiled, tearing her gaze from the madness that awaited in his eyes and down the rest of him. Simple grey clothing, somewhere between Ancient Greek and Elizabethan, but the grey shifted like storm-clouds, and the pendant that glittered at his chest seem to be sparkling with some kind of energy.

"You have no power over me." She said, almost on reflex, because she was scared and vulnerable and had no idea what else to do or say. The words sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

"Ah, but I do, my dear Sarah." Had his voice gained a hint of thunder in it? Perhaps lent to him by his new appearance? "This." He took her free hand in his gloved one, bending to kiss her knuckles. "Now belongs to me." She tried to pull her hand away from his lips and the strange shivers it was giving her, but her arm wouldn't obey her. It stayed limp and pliant. Her throat clogged with panic.

Jareth smiled up at her, eyes flashing with that dangerous amusement. "Don't worry, my dear. As much as the thought of claiming you completely arrests me, it would not be complete without your consent." He straightened and sat on the bed beside her, so they were both nearer to even in height. "I would like to declare my intentions to obtain that." His eyes slid over her silk-hidden frame. "The proper way. So, for my first gift…" He sighed, a wistful sound of many things he'd like to do to her being given up for the time being. She found herself blushing, and she was fairly sure he wasn't telling her body to do that.

"I give you, Sarah Williams, free reign of your body, without cost or obligation." The air shivered the same way she had under Jareth's touch and suddenly her body felt a bit heavier. More fragile. More mortal. She simply stared at him, not sure she understood or believed everything that was happening. "And for my second gift…" He snapped his fingers and a silvery roll of fabric plopped onto the bed. "A gown, that you may join me for dinner this evening." He rose again, stepping back but not closing the curtain, one last surveying look over her shocked face.

Jareth winked. "Do feel free to give either gift back to me personally if they displease you." And the Goblin King was gone.

* * *

It took about a half hour wandering about the obviously feminine room, finding under things from several centuries and cultures to realize Jareth intended hers to be a long-term stay. It took about five minutes in the completely modern-outfitted wet dream of a bathroom for her not to care. It was Greek Marble in design, with statues of naked nymphs holding up towels that looked soft as clouds. The sinks and counters were covered in expensive top-of-the-line make-up, shampoos and soaps, with a few jars and tinctures with long descriptions instead of labels. A golden mermaid mosaic was swimming through the bottom of a Jacuzzi the size of most bathrooms she'd been in. The faucet was another statue, this one all-too-familiar.

Jareth, looking impish, sat indolently with outstretched hand, a hole there for the water to stream from. Oh, and he was completely, if a bit unrealistically, naked. She shook her head to herself and rolled her eyes as she turned her attention to all the beauty products, considering. She was feeling vulnerable. Like this was a dream, or a nightmare. A good mask of make-up and the chance to look stunning might be a comfort. On the other hand, getting ogled by Jareth all night wouldn't be. And since that was obviously what he wanted…

The Goblin King was up to his kidnapping tricks again. It was about time she stopped being the helpless victim. Time to show Jareth she wouldn't play the damsel in distress for him. She was a twentieth-century girl and she was going to start acting like it. Sure enough the chests and wardrobes lining one wall had other clothes, again the odd hodge-podge of different eras. Unfortunately, unlike the comfy-looking modern underwear, all the pieces present were formal. Meant to show her off, no doubt.

She pondered everything present critically, then spotted her life-saver. A pair of dress slacks paired with a blouse that would have been banned in any office. There was a button-up in the chest of night-clothes though, and together she looked properly professional and off-limits. Her hair went back in a pony-tail and she didn't bother with make-up. She would have left her legs unshaved but they were still silky smooth. She wondered if Jareth had magicked them, because pretty much all of her hair was either unusually compliant or not there at all.

She'd also noticed her newly acquired barely-healthy thinness that was so fashionable in the magazines, but she had a feeling that had more to do with her recovery than Jareth's preferences. That odd mix of heaviness and fragility to her body. If she had to describe what it felt like in one word… Potential. She would either backslide or come out even stronger. Much stronger, if the new-found easiness of her steps was any indication.

Her first exercise of strength would be mental though, as she planned to show the Goblin King who was boss. There was a knock at her door and the unmistakable giggly-gruffness of a goblin voice on the other side, although this too seemed darker-sounding than she remembered. "M'Lady, I'm to escort you to the King's table."

Feeling very smug about her plain, professional appearance, she opened the door grandly and very nearly jumped out of her newly acquired loafers. The goblin came up to her chest and did not in any way resemble her memories of them, unlike Jareth. It was shaped vaguely like the pudgy, pointy goblins, but it was black as shadow, for the most parts, with it's shape defined in grays and blacker blacks. Except it's eyes, which were a glowing yellow, and it's mouth, which bore an almost equally yellow grin.

The Cheshire Cat, she decided, had been vaguely related to goblins, because that was who it reminded her of. "Um…" She tried not to be nervous, as she remembered not acting like prey was the first defense against dangerous animals. "You look different." She said dumbly instead.

The goblin smiled. "Most'a d'time we look how 'is Majesty wants. Dis is wha we look like all natural-like." Which was somehow… Comforting. That Jareth hadn't ordered them to put on a show for her.

"Alright then. Which way?" She asked, gathering a more business-like mien. The Goblin eyed her outfit but said nothing, shuffling off down the stone corridor. She followed, worried when she began to lose track of the twisting turns and stairs. The castle too was different than her last visit. It had gained laughing shadows and stunning moonlit windows and balconies. She had an impression of spiraling bannerettes and glittery-eyed gargoyles out those windows before the goblin led her down to what appeared to be the doors of a banquet hall, adorned and festooned with carvings of dancing, laughing figures.

Once again she thought she glimpsed Jareth among them, and was slightly less amused this time, because she thought she recognized some of the masks from her visit to his crystal ballroom. If this dinner turned into more of that she'd have a lot more than just a rebellious attitude ready for His Highness.

The room wasn't quite like the crystal ballroom, although it had plenty of crystal. It was bathed in multi-colored moonlight from stained-glass skylights and the table and chairs seemed as if they had grown out of the ground, a strange mixture of plant and mineral. Despite the grand setting the table was fairly small, and the candlelight gave it an intimate feel despite the intimidating setting.

Trust Jareth to try and be romantic in a cathedral.

She took her seat regally, smugly ignoring the unhappy look Jareth was giving her wardrobe choice. He dismissed her goblin escort with a wave and he skittered off with a suppressed giggle. "You're certainly looking better than I found you, precious, but I have to say I'd prefer you in something more… feminine." His eyes twinkled with a spark of mischief. "Or just those silk sheets."

"Well," Sarah kept her tone even with her posture, not about to be flustered by a little innuendo, "I was anticipating being laughed at anyway, so I might as well not be in anything ridiculous."

He looked wounded. "I wouldn't throw you to the wolves so quickly after your recovery." Implying that he had indeed considered it. "And I would say that looks a great deal more ridiculous than the gown I laid out for you."

"Admittedly there wasn't the unsightly tulle and puffy sleeves of the last one, but-"

"Ah-ah, Sarah." He interrupted. "The last dress was of your own imagination, not mine."

"Yes." She drawled sarcastically. "Your princess prefers to wear plunging necklines and slinky fabrics."

"And corsets." He added with humor. "Don't forget the corsets." There was a pause as she eye-rolled and then before she knew it they were both laughing, although at their own banter or the ridiculousness of the situation she didn't know. Nor did she particularly care, because it felt amazingly nice to just laugh.

When they finished she was smiling, and dinner was served, something befitting a five-star restaurant that left her boneless and happy. She'd cleaned the plate, she was so hungry, but Jareth had held up his hand at her sniffing around his desert. "You'll make yourself sick. Still healing, remember."

Their happy conversation seemed to sputter and die at this reminder of her situation. The openness of the cathedral-room seemed now a clever trick to make it that much harder for her to notice just how trapped she was. Her chest seized up, and she felt a torn panic rising. "Why didn't you just take all of me?" She accused, hating what that paralyzing fear felt like and him for causing it.

"You were in shock." He said simply. "It was your body talking, not your mind, so that was all you could give away in that state."

She pressed her eyes shut. "And if I just give in now? It'll all go away, won't it?"

Sarah could feel his silence pressing on her, but she didn't dare look. "I would not accept it, were you to offer yourself now. You have not fully healed, body or mind." He said finally, voice cold and distant and… angry. At something she couldn't place but should…

Her head felt stuffed with fog, cloying and gray, and she felt the question quiver just behind her lips. _What was I doing on that cliff, Jareth? Why did you need to heal me? __**Why don't I remember!**_

"I want to go back to my room." She whispered, and the cold, aloof Jareth agreed that she had pressed herself enough for one night. Ominously he suggested they start the rest of her healing tomorrow but she tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about anything as the Goblin King led her back to the room in his palace he'd set aside just for her. And the bed that, very faintly, smelled like him.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback! Hopefully this chapter will answer a few of the most common questions. And finally introduce us to some Sarah-Jareth banter, my favorite part.


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